


i guess i'm already there

by nereid



Series: the corona collection [1]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, fluff with some anxiety on the side, no-memories Stefan, set in season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nereid/pseuds/nereid
Summary: Let's dance, he stretches his hand out towards her, and she's ready to testify in front of any Grand Jury that she doesn't know what she's thinking when she takes it.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Stefan Salvatore
Series: the corona collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667455
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	i guess i'm already there

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to make my way through my list of WIPs during the Corona quarantine, and I found this fic, which I started writing immediately after tVD 5x04 came our, aka a century ago, and magically managed to finish it. Title borrowed from the magnificent Talking Heads.

_And me. You have me,_ he says and he's so like the Stefan-with-memories, or at least the Stefan-with-memories-in-her-head, it catches her off guard, even if she's really glad he's still like this, so she just nods and then when he takes her hand into hers she thinks that maybe she does. Maybe she has him. 

Having Stefan around now, this version of Stefan at least, it feels like she's supposed to be retracing her steps or they're supposed to be retracing their steps together back somewhere; or something else along these lines, something she'd know how to describe in more detail if she ever tried actually paying attention while they were doing Shakespeare or someone else as dead and as important in her English Lit class. But she walks Stefan home anyway, she can walk if she can't talk or think, and anyway she supposes the walk's for her benefit as much as it's for his, but then maybe she's allowed this much selfishness. 

She stands on the porch with him until he walks in and before he does, she asks him if he needs her to stay and when he says _nah_ with a trace of a smile on his lips, she tells him she'll be back in the morning with determination in her voice. 

When she comes back in the morning he's already made coffee. Or at least she thinks it's him, because Damon doesn't seem to be here, and the same goes for Elena. So she grabs the cup of coffee and calls out for him, _Stefan, you here somewhere?_ and she hears him say _upstairs_ in response. 

She walks up the stairs and he appears in her line of vision, walking towards her, a matching cup of coffee, and she's thirteen again because the boy she likes chose the same patterned cup as she did. 

_I was told that this is my bedroom,_ he says, as he leads her through an open door into one of the rooms. 

_I wouldn't know, I've never been in here before_

_No? Weird._

She's not really sure why he'd call it weird, but he's almost a two hundred year old vampire who has no memory these days of his life and has been tortured recently, so she lets him get away with things, because she's Caroline Forbes and she's just nice like that. 

It's not like it's anything important anyway. In fifteen minutes time he's pacing around the room (he's been doing that for fourteen and a half minutes now) and she's sprawled across his bed (has been so for the last fourteen minutes forty seconds) and her cup of coffee's sitting on his nightstand. 

He asks her tons of questions and she responds by telling him tons of stories and he listens and makes snide comments but he still asks more questions, so this is probably a good thing, all in all. She's just happy to help and be useful and it's really not like there's much else to do anyway. Tyler's gone again and Bonnie's dead. (Oh, god. Bonnie's really dead.) 

_Is there anything in this room that dates to a time after 1972?_ he asks hopefully and it's funny to see a man be so shocked and maybe a bit disgusted by his own taste in things.

_Other than the sheets? Nope, old man._

She's just finished with the explanation of who exactly her mom is and what she does in this town, and then she notices that he's just sort of staring at her, or actually, staring past her, and there's a sort of blank expression on his face and if there's some kind of magical mumbo jumbo going on with him she'll kill someone and if he's just not listening to her, well, she'll kill him then. 

_Stefan, are you even listening to me?_ she screams out. Usually, she wouldn't just be saying this, probably, because she'd try and most likely succeed in saying something funny along with getting his attention back. 

But Tyler's gone. 

And Bonnie's dead. 

Maybe she's allowed to be a little off her game, for like a day. Or half a day at least, because seriously, it's not even noon and look at what she's done already, she's told Stefan most of his life story and updated his brain with some fresh Mystic Falls intel. And anyway, she'll get back to being very good at this soon enough. 

_No, Caroline_ , he screams, hands flailing in what she supposes he thinks can pass as a stereotypically girly way of gesturing, trying to match and mock her tone at once. 

She wants to scream at him. 

Just for a brief moment, but she wants to. But, she takes a deep breath, remembers that when she read that WikiHow article titled _How To Be Cute_ method one was to be positive and part of that, or so the article said, was to have fun, so she just laughs and soon he's stopped his pacing and he's just laughing too, and hey, many bad things can be said about WikiHow and the Internet and how to articles, but maybe this isn't so stupid after all. 

When they've stopped laughing, Stefan looks at her and asks her: 

_What is if we do for fun around here?_

_Stefan Salvatore and fun? Together? Oh, how the mighty have fallen._

_Hey, if you're not the person to ask, I can find someone else to -_

_Hey, don't get smart with me, old man._

_I'm not old._

_Yes, you are. But it's okay, I have a plan._

_To make me not old?_

_Nuh-uh, some feats are beyond even me. No. But I may have something fun for us to do._

_Oh?_

_There's this bar. Well, it's more of a bar slash club. Tell me if I need to slow down or dumb down all this talk for you._

_Caroline, You know I still understand words, right?_

_Sure you do. And anyway, they play this really old music, like from the 80s or 90s or whenever and well, you're even older than that so maybe it'll be fun._

_Sounds like a plan to me._

_I have to go meet my mom for lunch now, but I'll pick you up at 8._

_8 it is._

_Try not to lose your memory while I'm gone_

She's there on the porch in front of his house and she's maybe twenty three minutes late (her mother decided they needed to do a spring cleaning of their house and her hair dryer got lost somewhere in the newly created mess, so she's showing up on the Salvatore doorstep with wet hair. She's just about to open the door when he does it first and then he just stands there and stares and a part of her just thinks he's being an idiot or smug, because he's starting to look a bit smug right about now, his right eyebrow a bit raised and a bottle of some alcohol in his hand, grey jeans and a not-too- tight-but-just-tight-enough black shirt and a part of her examines the option that maybe "smug" isn't the best word to characterize him at the moment, maybe it's something else entirely, she thinks and replays the image of him yesterday in her head, _Caroline Forbes, my best friend, you're much hotter in person_. (Which, _please_ , like she needed _him_ to tell her that.) 

_I need to dry my hair, does Elena keep a dryer here?_

_Hello to you to, Caroline,_ he takes a sip of whatever he's having which she makes a note to tell him smells awful.

_Told you you were old, manners are like, so last century, the dryer, Stefan?_

_I have no idea. What I do know is that we don't have time for this, it's 8:24 and we were supposed to start having fun over twenty minutes ago,_ he says. 

And then he puts the bottle down on the table next to the door, grabs his wallet, phone and some keys and grabs a leather jacket (oh my god, he's such a cliché right now, she could cry or laugh or both) and closes the door behind him and now he's standing way too close to her because she hasn't moved yet, so she does, before she starts thinking about how the smell of the bourbon or whatever the foul thing was is actually quite improved by mixing with his cologne. 

She moves. 

_Stefan, the dryer._

_Caroline, the bike_ < he says and walks towards the garage where she supposes his bike's parked. She stops after him, doesn't he understand that she really needs to dry her hair, she's not messing around and the bike might wrinkle her clothes and she really likes this black dress, damn it.

He's looking at her expectantly, only he's not just looking at her, and this time he's not looking past her either, it's more like he's trying to remember everything about her for his diary, which, honestly, sounds like such a Stefan thing, and - _focus, Caroline, damn it_ \- she hopes that even if he's really lost all his memories and the light here is half-bad, he'll still be able to read from her face exactly how much she's trying to kill him with a single stare.

 _Come on, Caroline. Remember all the fun that we're supposed to be having_ , he says, sitting on the motorcycle, one hand outstretched towards her, offering her a blue helmet. 

He smiles, and - 

\- damn it.

_Fine_ , she says, puts on the helmet and sits behind him, because in no circumstances ever will Stefan Salvatore be allowed to be more fun that she is. She's Caroline Forbes, she took classes in Being Fun. Well, she didn't, how uncool would that be, but if there actually were any, she'd have aced all of them. And proceeded to teach all of them. 

He wraps her arms around his waist and and starts the engine and well, that's definitely new. She gives him directions and other than that, the ride's mostly silent, which is okay, she supposes. (It's not, it's not, because then she can think about things and most things these days that come up in her head she'd like to file straight into the "Go Away Please" category.)

But she survives, because she always does, and because it's becoming warm for her hands between the cotton of his shirt and the leather of his jacket, or as close to warm as it can get, anyway. 

He parks the motorcycle in front of the bar slash club called Mystic Falls Bar, which is ridiculous even when it's the millionth time she's reminded of that. Stefan doesn't seem to mind though, as he's slowly stepping of the motorcycle and looking around. 

She remembers then, how did she forget, and moves closer to him to ask: 

_You'll be okay right, I mean, I forgot about the Ripper thing and the no control thing, and maybe this is a bad idea, Stefan_ , and the award for the fastest trip from "fun" to "reminding someone of their horrendous murderous past" goes to yours truly. He seems to sense her discomfort somewhat, and he means to reassure her, probably, because he puts a hand on her shoulder, and looks into her, and there's something in his eyes she's more than happy to recognize.

_I ate before I came. I'll be fine. I have you_ , and he smiles at her then, and thoughts shoved into the Go Away Please category start coming to Caroline's mind, and when she turns to the entrance of the bar, because she cannot be looking at him right now, she puts her hand to his shoulder to guide him inside, and she's stupid obviously, or deranged, because this is not going to make the Thoughts go back to where she can pretend she doesn't have them.

They walk in, there's not many people this early, but Caroline counted on this and did not want them to end up here only later when the place is already too crowded and noisy, and maybe even this is maybe pushing it, I mean, it's not like he's that stable. She tries to glance at him stealthily while they're walking to the bar, to gauge his discomfort level, but he catches her eye and smiles, and sometimes winks, and he is still Stefan Salvatore, for crying out loud, this is outrageous behavior.

She doesn't stop the glancing, and that's an admission of something, probably, and she'll happily ignore all the implications and consequences, and wasn't this supposed to be fun, instead of him deteriorating her mental state by freaking winking.

She orders them two beers, and they walk to one of the three standing tables, far on the outskirts of the dance floor that's sparsely populated at the moment.

She makes a point to stand as directly opposite to him as she can. Caroline might not know everything about the new Stefan, but she's still pretty sure maximum proximity is the cornerstone of trying to _not_ jump your best friend.

They sip their beers for a minute and she scans the crowd, mostly to avoid looking too directly at him. She really likes this shirt on him.

_Caroline? Care?_

Did she get so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't hear him say something? Quite possibly.

 _What?_ she asks, she sounds annoyed, and it's only with herself, but it's not like he can know that from the way she scrunches up her nose.

He laughs, and she thinks that maybe he can. She's not really sure if she likes that.

 _Let's dance_ , he stretches his hand out towards her, and she's ready to testify in front of any Grand Jury that she doesn't know what she's thinking when she takes it.

He leads her to the dance floor, his hand on her back. The music's louder here and she's relieved they can't actually talk. The relief morphs into something else entirely when he puts his hands on her hips, and it's hotter here on the dance floor among people, even without his hands, have they always been so large. At least her still damp hair sort of comes in handy, though she's not sure even her damp hair can effecticely counteract how her hips are feeling increasingly warm, and the fabric of her dress is so thin, it's almost as if he's touching her skin, which she also wonders what it would feel like, and she's amazed at herself that she seems to be successfuly keeping up with Stefan, and the beat. Memory or no memory, his body seems to know how to do this, and she's the one stuck with the memories of all the previous times, different though they were, and usually in the midst of an oncoming flavor-of-the-week apocalypse, that they always persevered through.

She turns her back to him, and his hands quickly find their way back to her hips or waist, because it feels like they're everywhere, and she pushes into him, some kind of god forsaken instinct from her earlier years of grinding against cute boys, and _fuck_ she realizes what she's doing, and makes her way without a word away from the dance floor and then out of the club, somewhere where there's air that can hopefully flow into her brain again, because apparently her brain's malfunctioning.

Of course he follows her out, what was she thinking he would do.

_Hey, you okay?_

The million dollar question.

 _I didn't think you liked to dance_ , she starts, and stops, nervously crosses and uncrosses her hands across her chest.

_Then why'd you bring me here?_

_I mean, not that you don't like to dance, though you did try to avoid it many times, you don't remember of course, but -_

_You know, even without the memories of my past dancing, which I am sure you can supply - I can know that I want to dance with you_ , he offers, and she notices he's moved a step closer to her, and she's not sure how many more steps before she jumps him, or runs away.

She starts to speak and realizes she doesn't know what to say, and he smiles anyway, and god, he has to stop looking at her like this.

Okay, game face on.

_We're friends, Stefan._

_Hey, I was told we were best friends, when did I get downgraded like that?_

_Best friends. And, so, this dancing was clearly a mistake, and there's way too many people anyway, how about we just go back?_

He takes a step closer, and she's not jumped him yet, so she thinks maybe she can do this.

 _Best friends can dance_ , he offers, meekly.

_Dance, sure. Dry hump? Not really _.__

___You know I'm old, and memory-less, I'm not down with the whole cool-kid lingo_ , he says, and she's not sure if he's even joking or he really doesn't know, but he's smiling anyway, and _fuck it_ , this was a lost cause to begin with._ _

__In about two steps for him, and three for her, they meet each other half-way, hands, bodies, mouths meeting, and she feels like she can exhale, finally, and she laughs, which is tough to do with his tongue in her mouth, but his only reaction to that is to laugh as well, and she thinks, _okay, we're going to be okay.__ _


End file.
